I recently came across the following poem by Joseph Mills. I think it's a beautiful poem, and I believe you will think so too.
by Joseph Mills
I don't think my brother realized all the responsibilities involved in being her guardian, not just the paperwork but the trips to the dentist and Wal-Mart, the making sure she has underwear, money to buy Pepsis, the crying calls because she has no shampoo even though he has bought her several bottles recently. We talk about how he might bring this up with the staff, how best to delicately ask if they're using her shampoo on others or maybe just allowing her too much. "You only need a little, Mom," he said, "Not a handful." "I don't have any!" she shouted before hanging up. Later he finds a bottle stashed in her closet and two more hidden in the bathroom along with crackers, spoons, and socks. Afraid someone might steal her things, she hides them, but then not only forgets where, but that she ever had them at all.
I tease my brother, "You always wanted another kid." He doesn't laugh. She hated her father, and, in this second childhood, she resents the one who takes care of her. When I call, she complains about how my brother treats her and how she hasn't seen him in years. If I explain everything he's doing, she admires the way I stick up for him. Doing nothing means I do nothing wrong. This is love's blindness and love's injustice. It's why I expect to hear anger or bitterness in my brother's voice, and why each time we talk, no matter how closely I listen, I'm astonished to hear only love.